Deceit
by dbrks
Summary: Salazar's locket hung around her neck. It played with her mind, pushed to the brink of insanity. But she felt compelled to keep in on. My first attempt at a Tomione ff. One-shot (for now). Rated M jic.


**AN: None of the characters are mine. Credits go to our dear JKR**

...

The battle was raging. Curses were flying in all directions. The moment his eyes landed on her, all that surged through him was disgust and anger. Disgust, because of her blood status. Anger, because she managed to outshine everyone despite that blood status. Not that he thought that at the time. In his eyes, she was only another obstacle amongst others. And anger just came naturally to him. Anger and hate.

Mudblood.

Filthy filthy mudblood.

The words always resonated in his mind.

A mantra he taught himself.

A belief so ingrained he ended owning up to it.

What was first a means to an end became a way of life.

Muggles were vermin, to be pulverized, crushed and disposed of.

Just like his own father.

The hypocrisy of it was laughable.

He never payed her any mind.

He never came across her at all really.

It was all hearsay.

People talked.

And when it came to the chosen one and his lackeys, they _loved_ to talk.

It was intriguing.

The smartest witch of the age.

And a mudblood at that.

Hate engulfed him again.

And anger.

But now that anger was more than justified.

More personal.

It was burning through him and clawing at his insides.

The pain never got any dimmer.

The agony of having one's soul bit annihilated.

One more down.

Only a few to go.

For a brief moment, he had illuded himself into thinking he got under her skin.

He was right there.

Right above her heart.

Against her skin.

Inside her head.

Not all the time, but she had taken to wearing the locket more and more.

His locket.

That held a piece of his soul.

Her fingers would graze its surface from time to time.

As if to make sure she still had it on. And his soul would relish at the contact.

Her emotions were palpable.

The transparency was almost comic.

He could feel her fear, her repulsion amidts other silly notions.

But what enraptured him most was the admiration, the reverence.

It didn't take a genius to see how formidable of a wizard he was.

But this bit of magic seemed to bewitch her.

He had her, and he could feel her resolve wavering.

He could feel her mind slipping and the voices clouding her mind.

 _His voice. His murmurs. His promises._

She had it on her all the time now. Her heartbeat a steady rhythm against the metal.

Oh the things she'd accomplish if she were to submit.

He wouldn't kill her, no.

She was to serve them, to serve _him_.

His assault on her mind amplified.

But she still kept the locket on.

She'd jump at the feel of a breath on her neck. Fingertips caressing her jawline.

A yank at her arm. A hand squeezing down her throat.

He reveled in all this.

Stripping her of her senses and melting her grasp on reality.

He had her.

She had started to isolate herself.

Closing off entirely.

Snapping at the other two every time they approached her.

Still refusing to take off the locket.

Maybe a part of her enjoyed the respite from all the running and fighting.

All the fight must have gone out of her by now.

His mudblood was finally giving up.

Finally.

After that, it all came tumbling down.

He was so used to the feel of her skin that he was aware of the exact moment it left her.

His soul longed for her.

Then a click.

His immediate response was to invade the boy's mind.

It always amazed him how easy it was to swarm in the Potter boy's head.

And once he saw through his eyes, everything played out before him.

The open locket.

The vision playing out.

Two bodies interlocked.

Potter's and _hers._

Then a sword slicing through his soul.

Green eyes traveled through the sword's handle, the hand holding it, the freckled skin, the bushy hair and then the haunted eyes.

Rage overtook him.

And excruciating pain.

Back at the manor, he avada'ed whomever stood there. Destroyed furniture. Crucio'ed and crucio'ed. Until it stopped.

Plotting came next.

Oh vengeance would be sweet.

That mudblood would pay. Tenfolds.

A gruesome smile followed.

Blood red lips separating to show perfect teeth.

His eyes darker than they've ever been, flashing an eerie red when the light hit them.

He drew his hand through his dark wavy locks.

Yes she would pay.

The end.

 **AN: If you want a glimpse at what I imagine Riddle looks like in here, I posted it on Tumblr. (look up dorrabrks)**


End file.
